Shattered Lives
by cellorocksmyworld
Summary: James thought he was the only one who'd just had an abysmal week. But when he's assigned to guard a traumatized six year old girl and a mother with problems of her own, he finds not only understanding, but a last shot at redemption. Post CR.


James slammed the door so hard the windows rattled, not caring that he was being insubordinate and immature. M's new secretary, a pretty young redhead who had given him a subtle once-over as he entered the office, jumped in her seat and nearly spilled coffee down her front. Not even bothering to apologize, James stalked angrily from the room.

It took a fair amount of concentration to restrain himself from hurting someone as he strode down the hallways of MI6. Those who saw him coming jumped out of the way quickly, recognizing the aura of a man who is seriously pissed off. He slammed his way out of the building into the parking garage, cursing under his breath.

_Of all the fucking times for M to be considerate, she just has to choose now, doesn't she? _he thought darkly. Deciding that he needed to beat something up, he got in his car and headed for the gym.

It had been three days. Three days, or seventy-two hours, or four thousand three hundred twenty minutes, or two hundred fifty nine thousand two hundred seconds, depending on how you wanted to count it. Just enough time for it to really sink in that Vesper was gone and was never coming back.

Any normal person would have taken a few more days, at least. Hell, M had offered him a month to get his emotions back in check. But what she didn't know was that James Bond didn't have emotions anymore. Vesper's death had stripped him of all but anger and hate.

So he took a day – one day – to wrap up the mess created by his dead lover and the elusive Mr. White, and took a plane back to London. And now, just when he needed some big crime syndicate or terrorist group to beat on, M decided to be nice.

"I know this is a hard time for you," she had said, as though she had even the slightest idea. "So I'm giving you a break on this one."

A _break_?! He didn't need a break! He needed something _to_ break! He needed something he could bury himself in, something so violent and dangerous that he wouldn't have a spare brain cell to think about what he had lost. And maybe, just maybe, when he surfaced… these past weeks would seem like just a barely remembered nightmare… But no, M had to give him this. Something a first-year trainee could handle without a problem, and definitely not something that would keep his mind occupied.

James hit the steering wheel with his fist, blasting the horn into midday traffic. He couldn't get to the gym fast enough.

* * *

Helena Kemp sat in a stupor on the couch in her apartment, clutching what she valued above life itself in her arms so tightly that-

"Mommy, you're hurting me."

The little girl spoke in an indifferent, dead voice unnatural for a child. But her eyes were the same way, a dark blue that used to sparkle, but was now dull. Helena loosened her grip, but not by much.

"I'm sorry sweetie." Her voice was higher, more hysterical than her daughter's. Her brown eyes sparkled with unshed tears, and the dried tracks of those already shed stood out on her cheeks.

How had it come to this? How had her ex-husband let it get so bad that his own daughter… she couldn't bear to finish the thought. But it wasn't fair to think ill of the dead. Alex, for all his faults, hadn't asked to be murdered, and most definitely hadn't wanted his child to be the only witness.

_But he's partly to blame_, a treacherous part of her mind stated. His political rivalries, his betrayals, his corruption… it had all led to this. This one, horrible event.

_It doesn't matter_, she thought firmly. _It doesn't matter whose fault it is, or what a man who was just shot to death could have done to prevent it. All that matters now is Sandra._

Alex Parker had been one of the leading candidates for Britain's next Prime Minister. He had been everything the public adored: handsome, smart, dedicated, and honest – at least on the surface. What didn't show up in the papers or on TV were the bribes, the threats, the secret deals and alliances that make up most of behind-the-scenes politics. When Helena first met him in grad school, she saw the man he put on for appearances. It wasn't until after they were married that she finally saw him as he really was: selfish, arrogant, and a perpetual liar. She divorced him, but couldn't bring herself to really hate him. The man she loved was a part of him, even if he was just a disguise. And he was the father of her child, her beautiful Sandra. So despite his drawbacks, Helena allowed their daughter to spend weekends with him.

How she regretted that now.

"Ma'am?"

A voice broke into her thoughts. Looking up, she saw the officer who had been staying with them temporarily, standing awkwardly in the doorway.

"Um… ma'am, the uh, the agent assigned to protect you and your daughter is here."

"Oh…" She looked down at Sandra, who was staring across the room, yet seeing nothing. Helena didn't know how she felt about having a strange man in her house, even if he was there to protect them. She didn't know how she would handle it. She didn't know how Sandra would handle it.

"Ma'am?"

Well, there was nothing for it, really. It was either this, or live in the police department. So she gently untangled herself from her daughter, and stood. Gripping Sandra's hand tightly, she raised her chin defiantly and headed for the front door. Now was not the time for weakness.

**Reviews would be lovely.**


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